


Temporary Truce

by Impala_Chick



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Dialogue Heavy, Episode: s04e03 The Wicked Day, Gen, Metafiction, Missing Scene, Not A Fix-It, Past Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Season/Series 04, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: Morgana sneaks into the castle after Uther's death. Arthur catches her and they agree on a temporary truce.
Relationships: Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20
Collections: Merlin Canon 2020





	Temporary Truce

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Merlin Canon Fest 2020. 
> 
> After a 4x03 rewatch, I really wanted to see Morgana and Arthur have a conversation about Uther's death. This was born from that idea.

Morgana looked at Uther, lying in state on the dias in the middle of the great hall, and expected to feel _something_. Maybe vindicated or relieved, at least. But she felt neither of those things.

His skin was waxy and nearly translucent, and his lips were blue. Besides his face, everything else was covered. She could almost believe he was sleeping, except for the weird sagging quality to the skin at his cheeks. 

She’d known the moment he’d died. She’d felt the final tug of white hot pain from the necklace, and then the wide yawning of nothingness. It was definitive, but it also mirrored the way her heart felt as she gazed upon Uther’s dead body.

She thought about snatching the golden crown from his head, but then she heard footsteps approaching the double doors. She ducked behind a pillar on the left side of the hall and listened as someone pulled open the doors. 

It was Arthur. She could tell by the cadence of his echoing footsteps. She kept herself hidden by the large stone pillar, carefully considering how to make her escape. She’d originally slipped in through the doors under the cover of darkness, while the rest of the castle slept. It was still dark outside, but Arthur must have been unable to sleep. 

She strained to listen, curious if she’d catch him sobbing or something equally as unbecoming. 

But there was nothing, only silence. Arthur wasn’t saying or doing anything as far as she could tell. She rolled her eyes and leaned her head against the pillar. Unless she wanted to make a run for it or jump out the nearest window, it looked like she was going to have to wait for Arthur to leave.

As she shifted her body weight to get more comfortable, the toe of her boot scuffed against the wooden floor. It made the tiniest squeak of a sound, but she knew Arthur heard her. A few moments more and then a sword was thrust into view on her right side, just on the other side of her shoulder.

She had a decision to make. She could easily blast Arthur aside and make for the doors. She could even kill Arthur where he stood. But that wasn’t part of the plan. Arthur was supposed to be publicly disgraced. All of Camelot was supposed to watch him fail. By the time his short reign was over, he was going to be _begging_ Morgana to take the crown. 

So she did nothing.

Arthur rounded the pillar. When he saw her face, his eyes widened in shock. Morgana stood up straight and grinned. She hoped her billowing black cloak made her look menacing.

“Morgana?” Arthur immediately lowered his sword. It hung limply at his side as he gave her a weak, watery smile. “Shall we call a truce for today?”

The lines of his mouth had softened, and his hair looked longer than the way he normally kept it. She was struck by the realization that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him. He was blinking rapidly, like maybe he had been holding back tears. Morgana narrowed her eyes at him but decided his idea was better than none. “This temporary truce changes nothing.”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder at Uther before sheathing his sword. “Oh, I think this changes everything.” 

Morgana huffed and crossed her arms, careful not to show Arthur how clever she thought his retort to be. “You are too much like him. You think Camelot will be any different with you on the throne?” 

“I do.” Arthur spoke solemnly, his eyes earnest as he gazed at her. “I want it to be, anyway. I know he … could have done better.” 

Morgana couldn’t help the rage that suddenly bloomed in her chest. It took Arthur years and countless innocent lives for him to see that Uther was just a big bullheaded child who used his power to satisfy his own selfish desires? “Too little, too late now, little brother. You should have seen him for what he was. You did nothing and now you expect me to believe things will be different.”

Morgana stalked over to Uther’s body and the hall was suddenly filled with her angry footfalls. When she stopped walking, all was silent for a beat. And then Arthur joined her at her side.

“I still want you here, in Camelot,” he said quietly, as if scared he would startle her. “Certainly there should be a trial, because of what you’ve done to so many innocent people. I cannot let that go unpunished. But still I want you back, Morgana. You could be my counsel.”

Morgana nearly laughed at the childish ridiculousness of Arthur’s statement, but she couldn’t help the way the idea appealed to her baser instincts. The castle had been her only home, filled with her only friends. She could remember a time when she and Arthur used to be confidantes, scheming and plotting behind Uther’s back even as children. But she knew that it would never be like it once was. As she gazed down at all of the Camelot finery adorning Uther, including the huge Pendragon red cloak and the gold dragon crest, she remembered exactly what she was fighting for. Or rather, fighting _against_.

“Don’t fool yourself, Arthur. I won’t ever work for you. Not while magic is outlawed. You act like you’re so much better than me but I know you harbor hate in your heart.” 

“I don’t hate you, Morgana. I don’t understand you, though. Not anymore.” Arthur brushed his hair off of his forehead and put his hands on his hips, appraising her.

She had a half a mind to use some sort of magic on him, but she had already agreed to the truce. She didn’t feel like she should have to explain, not after everything that had happened, but she tried to anyway. “To hate magic is to hate me. My magic cannot be separated from who I am.”

“Magic killed our father. A sorcerer did this to him,” Arthur said as he gestured forcefully at Uther. “And I’ve seen you kill so many, Morgana. You resurrected the dead to attack this place you once loved. And then you tore a veil between the worlds to freeze people to death where they stood. How can magic be good after all of that?” 

He seemed so forlorn, which was a quality altogether foreign from the Arthur that Morgana knew.

It prompted Morgana to soften her voice. “Those things were all a means to an end, Arthur. You will not bend, and I will not break. But I can try to be patient. I can just wait for you to fail.” 

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and watched Arthur shake his head, a sly smile on his face. She knew that look. He was accepting her challenge.

Arthur turned back to Uther’s body and wiped the grin from his face. “We are supposed to be saying goodbye to our father, aren’t we? That’s why you’re here.”

It was funny that of all the people in the world, in that moment, Arthur was the one person who could understand her best. He knew what it was to lose a father who was a King, but more than that, he knew what it was to lose a father who was not a particularly good man.

“Not to say goodbye. Just to have closure,” Morgana said simply. 

“Aren’t those the same thing?”

Morgana shook her head and bit back her initial response, which was to make fun of Arthur’s simple-mindedness. “Goodbyes are for him, closure is for me.”

Arthur bit his lip and thought about her words for a moment. 

“If I die before you, would you say goodbye to me?”

Morgana widened her eyes and tilted her head, somewhat amused by his question. For whatever reason, she had always assumed no mortal man or woman could kill him, and he would only die if she had to make it so. She couldn't even picture Arthur's body laying flat on a stone slab like Uther's. “It’s unbecoming to be egocentric.”

“I’m the King now. I’m allowed some leeway.” He was smiling again, but he had a faraway look in his eye. 

Morgana decided that Arthur deserved neither her sympathy nor her pity, even though in that moment she seriously considered reaching out to him. She thought of how strange it was that only a year or so ago, she would have been able to gather Arthur into a hug without thinking twice. 

“It is a burden, isn’t it? A burden and a gift,” Morgana mused.

Arthur huffed a laugh. “I forget that you also wore the crown.”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

Arthur shrugged his shoulder and raised his eyebrow, and then they stood in silence for a while after that. She listened for some physical manifestation of Arthur’s grief, but he never started to cry. Maybe he was stronger than she gave him credit for.

Arthur didn’t let the silence stretch on too long. 

“Don’t you miss us? Don’t you miss Guinivere?” He asked softly.

For a moment, Morgana nearly answered honestly. She always felt burdened by the ache in her chest, and the mere mention of Gwen brought that ache to the forefront. But she couldn’t afford to let any matters of the heart taint her vision. And she couldn’t allow Arthur to see such weakness.

Morgana tapped her boot against the ground and avoided meeting Arthur’s gaze. “It was surprising when Gwen chose you instead of me. For that I can never forgive her. She isn’t worthy of the crown because she thinks as you do. You have brainwashed her.”

“As if anyone could do that to her. Most days I am convinced she is stronger than us both,” Arthur scoffed. After a beat he continued, “Why would Guinivere wear the crown anyway?” 

Morgana looked at him askance. “Don’t even start with me, Arthur. You know very well that you could crown her Queen now.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Arthur said as he bit his lip. “I fear her heart is divided, at any rate.”

“Maybe you are the one who is undecided,” Morgana quickly pointed out, and then turned to glare at him. “Gwen deserves better.”

“I can agree with you about that,” Arthur said with a quick nod. 

Morgana spared a moment to reflect on how strange it was that they were talking about matters of the heart over their dead father. She couldn’t quell the angry retort that bubbled up inside her, though. “She shouldn’t have chosen you. It is _I_ who always sought her counsel, who always knew her worth.”

“Careful, Morgana. You’re sounding jealous,” Arthur chided as he rocked up on the balls of his feet.

Morgana groaned. “I should never have come.”

“Probably not,” Arthur agreed with a smile. 

Morgana elbowed him in his left side, and the gesture immediately reminded her of when they were younger. They used to chase each other with wooden swords, practicing their killing blows, both of them eager to win. “All bets are off tomorrow, you know.” 

“Indeed they are. But for now, it looks like we’re stuck together. I have to ensure you don’t set any traps.” Arthur crossed his arms, his voice calm. 

Morgana shrugged her shoulder in a begrudging admission of the soundness of his logic. She also wondered if maybe Arthur just desired her company a little longer. “I have to hand it to him. Uther brought us together one last time.”

“Sort of a shame he doesn’t get to see it,” Arthur mused. 

Instead of answering, Morgana stared at Uther’s waxy face. She still felt nothing, like maybe he had already died in her heart years ago. On the other hand, she could admit to herself that her fondness for Arthur had not yet fizzled out. 

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with that information just yet. But she’d become good at keeping secrets.


End file.
